Rise of the Forgotten
by seraphim33wings
Summary: Everything had been set before he came around--her plan, her fate. When the stakes are high and life is the price, will his love be enough to change her mind? Life doesn't count when you take it from others. (only prologue so far)


Hi, first fic ever here!! I'll say here that I don't own _Harry Potter_ or its characters as the standard disclaimer goes. Also, Celestiell's race the Sentinet are based off of the Alichino, a manga, so I won't take credit for them either, sadly. But I do own Celestiell as a character. have fun!

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**Rise of the Forgotten  
Prologue :: Syncopation**

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_The stars are exceptionally beautiful tonight_, she thought, looking skyward, as she crossed the dark, secretive lake alone. The depths were deceptively tempting, be Celestiell knew well of the creeping dangers that lurked beneath the calm, rippling surface. There was a slight breeze about the air that came from the castle, the direction in which Celest was heading, and with it came the many different scents of the souls that attended the prestigious school. She tilted her head towards the towering castle and inhaled deeply, absorbing the delicious scent those students' souls were giving off—stead, sweet, and full of power. Closing her eyes, a light smile on her pale, beautiful face, she decided she wanted those souls—and she would have them. After all, Celestiell always got what she wanted. And any—she wrinkled her delicate nose—would-be _heroes_ who decided to interfere would simply have to die.

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She could feel the eyes upon her as she entered the Great Hall. Tall, pale candles bounced upon the air above their heads, the dim lights reflecting almost blindingly off the staff and students' now attentive optics. Celestiell, in quiet pride, held her head high despite all the gazes, looking up toward the bewitched ceiling filled with the enchanting night sky. Deciding that her neck ached from looking so high for so long, the dainty young girl focused her attention outwards to the staff table as she glided steadily closer to her destination.

She immediately identified Dumbledore, with his long white beard and calm eyes that glittered ever more as they leveled with her own before flitting away again just as quickly. His look had nearly stopped her dead in her tracks—had he recognized her?

_No,_ she told herself, shaking her head, sending her shimmering raven ebony waves all across her shoulders. He couldn't have possibly recognized the Sentinet. She'd changed her guise since she'd last been here years ago, and to suggest that anyone could have seen through the change was unthinkable, simply because each form she created was seamless, perfect, and indistinguishable from the rest.

Arriving at the staff table, Celestiell lowered her head into a graceful bow and pulled her many elegant folds of her dress into a curtsy before the professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The dress, a moonlit pale white tinged with a slight golden hue, swept over the smooth floors, and Celestiell's hair, long and deadly dark as it was, also nearly touched the same surface, the silky tresses suspended over the flooring as a cloud is over the earth.

She spoke, her voice like little tiny silver wind chimes in a summer breeze, "Sirs and madams of Hogwarts School, I am Celestiell Rose Forrest-Raiyne of the Sentinet. It is a great privilege and honor to have the opportunity to attend your school, and I hope I have not troubled you with my request for admittance."

She raised her head, eyes focused intently on the headmaster. Faking politeness made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Not at all, not at all," Dumbledore assured her, eyes glittering again, as if he _knew_ something no other did. "Please," he said, motioning around the room, "greet the students."

Celestiell was not at all surprised. This was just like Dumbledore, just like Dumbledore those many years ago.

She smiled gently and turned slowly to the house tables, bowing once again, with eyes full of hidden annoyance. If they would all soon be dead, why bother greeting them?

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," she lied softly. "I hope to have a wonderful year. Won't you join me?" She looked up at the crowd and smiled again, that same gentle, alluring smile, and scanned the student body with watchful, dark red orbs.

It was those same tantalizing crimson red eyes, tainted by a mischievous glitter, which instantly caught his attention. Celestiell could feel it too; it was as if he had seen her—really seen her—for the first time since she'd come into the room. She didn't know him, but she acknowledged him. So she stared back, catching his frosty emerald gaze, and held it so that she could see clearly his loyal Gryffindor soul.

_Unmistakable_.

It was that boy—that Harry Potter.

It was Dumbledore who broke the whispering of his students—at the intense stare of a particular two.

"As many of you know may or may not know," his deep voice echoing throughout the Great Hall, "the Sentinet, though few in number, are a widely honored people. As an immortal race, they have long helped us humans in our most desperate times."

Many words were left unsaid: those concerning You-Know-Who. Celestiell and her people preferred not to think of… the _thing_ as others did. He was no dark lord, simply an impetuous human-killer with no ambition but to completely wipeout the non-magical. It was an empty, foolish ambition.

"By legend," Dumbledore continued, "the Sentinet are immortal. For now, let's just say they live a very, very long time. Also in legend, they grant any wish the human heart desires, if only the human does something for the Sentinet in return."

Celestiell almost scoffed. She was over two hundred years old but looked not a day over sixteen. Immortal? I should think so.

The Sentinet, Celestiell's sacred people, were a terrible race—ambitious, self-serving, and power-hungry. Known best for their ethereal beauty and power to grant wishes, they, in secret, went to humans for the lone purpose of stealing their soul. The soul of a man or woman was the core of his or her power. As the number of absorbed souls increased, so did a Sentinet's unlimited potential for greatness. As the number of absorbed souls increased, so did a Sentinet's _power_, and Celestiell knew these primitive, unsuspecting humans would do perfectly.

Her eyes shifted back to the young, black-haired boy. He was cute, she decided, but nothing like the Sentinet males, whose beauty was unrivaled.

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The sorting had begun. As Celestiell sat upon the stool, she had to admit that she felt rather disgraced. Her sorting had been conducted directly after that of the first years, and while she had waited, Celestiell had been dreading it.

It was time now. The hat had begun proving her mind. How _dare_ it, she thought. A ratty old hat like that, explore the mind of a great Sentinet? _Never_.

So Celestiell blocked it out. She stretched the barriers of her mind to their outer limits, the true darkness of her soul now veiled by a curtain of mental white light. Because of his, all the hat saw was purity.

It spoke to her, patronizingly, but Celestiell would not hear a word it said.

Then, "GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the deceived hat, and the house cheered, their yells loud throughout the halls.

Celestiell laughed inwardly, though her face showed only serene acceptance. _Gryffindor_, she though, _again_.

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The long-haired maiden sat by a window in the Gryffindor common room, her hair pulled back into a loose braid that she'd tied herself. It was late, nearly time for bed, at least for this Sentinet.

Her housemates, however, had other ideas.

"So where're you from?"

"Someplace far away."

"Like where?"

Celestiell dragged her gaze away from the window to look blankly at the curious group, staring at their eager faces for a few moments before looking aback at the sky. She changed the subject.

"The stars are exceptionally beautiful tonight," she said again, cryptically.

The group looked at her a bit reproachfully. Strange girl.

She ignored the students backing slowly away from her; something else had caught her attention: a boy, walking towards her slowly, like he couldn't decide whether he should be doing this or not.

_Harry Potter_.

The _hero_ of heroes, she'd heard. The Boy Who Lived; the boy whom everyone loved and admired; the boy who'd been considered absolutely mad about a year ago, until just recently when his name was cleared and the Dark Lord returned.

Well, the Sentinet didn't give a rat's ass about wizards, but diplomacy was necessary for a functioning society. Still, Celestiell prayed to whatever deity would listen that he'd lose his nerve and just leave.

But he was a Gryffindor, wasn't he?

"Hey," he said with, Celestiell noticed, controlled anxiousness. "So… how's your night been so far?"

She looked at him out the side of her eyes and smiled faintly.

"Everyone's made me feel very welcome," she told him. "Mr. Harry Potter, it's very nice to meet you."

"Same here."

They'd talked for a while more—about the day, about the grounds, about the people, the teachers, and other mundane topics—but it was only long after Celestiell had gone to bed did she realize just how extensively complex Harry's soul had been. The embers of his power licked at her spiritual censors, and she had, right then and there, desired nothing more than to devour it, remove it from his unworthy human shell. His soul's strength was great indeed, more potent than any human she'd ever met.

And soon, all that power would be her own.

At least, she was quite sure—not completely sure but quite sure—it would. Like she'd told herself, his soul was very complex. It would not want to be taken from the boy.

_Well_, she thought, w_e'll just have to change its mind_.

Her braid still intact from the earlier conversation, she pulled her covers up higher and clasped her hands over her stomach. Celestiell turned her elegant head to the side and closed he eyes, drifting into a deep sleep.

Outside the window, embedded like crystals into the depths of the night sky, the stars were exceptionally beautiful that night.

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So how'd you like it??? R/R please!


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